


Across the Salt Sea

by hopeless_eccentric



Series: (Free! That's right! Free!) Penumbra Commissions [4]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Buddy is a pirate captain and i want her to hold my hand so bad, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Fluff, Getting Back Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Relationship Discussions, Swordfighting, Wholesome sea shanties, Whump, fuck yeah, healthy communication but make it pirates, the Carte Blanche is a pirate ship, the Ruby 7 is a parrot. yes it's green, they're all pirates - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric
Summary: There were a lot of ways Juno didn’t like to start his mornings. He wasn’t a particular fan of starting the day before sunup to feed the chickens as a child, nor was he the biggest fan of loud noises interrupting his sleep. He didn’t like sunshine waking him prematurely, and he certainly didn’t like hangovers and bitter coffee and all the other shitty things the early morning hours might throw at him.He would take any of those things, however, over being awoken with a cutlass to the throat.Updating daily!!
Relationships: Juno Steel & Vespa (Penumbra Podcast), Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Series: (Free! That's right! Free!) Penumbra Commissions [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921492
Comments: 139
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adverbialstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/gifts).



> One of my free commissions for adverbialstarlight!! Title from Spanish Ladies because I'm a slut for a good sea shanty to buss down to. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Content warnings for canon-typical violence, a sword fight, light death threats, hangover mention

There were a lot of ways Juno didn’t like to start his mornings. He wasn’t a particular fan of starting the day before sunup to feed the chickens as a child, nor was he the biggest fan of loud noises interrupting his sleep. He didn’t like sunshine waking him prematurely, and he certainly didn’t like hangovers and bitter coffee and all the other shitty things the early morning hours might throw at him. 

He would take any of those things, however, over being awoken with a cutlass to the throat. 

The itchy press of barrels on either side of him and the groaning of the ship’s hull weren’t his favorite either, but they were much lower on his list of priorities. The blade slid up right below his chin to bring his face into the light. 

“Give me one good reason not to kill you right here and now,” the sword’s wielder demanded. Juno couldn’t see much of him, as he blocked out what little light from above seeped into the lower levels. His voice was steely and low. He didn’t sound like the kind of man who was kidding when he threatened Juno’s life. 

“Parlay?” Juno tried, though it was more of a squeak with that blade making friends with his carotid. 

“Try again.” 

“Come the fuck on,” Juno sighed. “I brought my own damn rations and everything. Just dump me at the nearest port.” 

“My apologies, stowaway, but my crew and I prefer not to be used as free transportation,” the man continued. “How did you get aboard the Carte Blanche?” 

“Just like you. I used the ramp,” Juno shrugged. 

“If you like that pretty neck of yours the way it is, darling, I would watch what you say next.” 

“Fine. You all were busy, I don’t know, doing whatever pirates do when you stop in a port, and I snuck on to get the hell out of there. Is that better?” Juno conceded.

“It was better, though I’ll say it was an imperfect, and rather simplistic story. I’ll need you to try again if you want to live long enough to find out what the Captain wants me to do with you,” the man sighed, feigning disappointment and pressing his blade a little closer. 

“Hey, hey, okay, I get it!” Juno protested. “Let a lady breathe, at least.” 

The man pulled the tip of his sword away by an inch. Luckily for Juno, an inch was all he needed.

His arm shot out to grip the wrist of his attacker in the same moment his neck flew out of the way. Though Juno went tumbling through the dark of the storage room, he could hear the cutlass embedding itself in the hull. 

“You—“ the man snarled. “Get back here!” 

“I’d love to, but you look way too ready to stab me,” Juno shot back, drawing his own sword. Under any other circumstances, he would much prefer his gun, but he didn’t feel like firing at a shadow when his aim was already compromised by his shiny new eyepatch. 

The man struck first, but Juno parried, ducking around barrels and crates to throw his attacker off. It seemed to work to his favor for some time. He supposed his vision was better adjusted to the dark. However, his advantage seemed to be slipping, as his hiding places between bouts of swordplay lost their element of surprise. 

With no more edge, Juno knew there was nothing left other than to fight the man in the open space in the hull’s center. He met him in the aisle with a dodge and a parry, the sounds of shuffling feet and metal on metal bursting like explosives from the pitch black room. 

“I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” the man grumbled. “And I have to kill a stowaway bastard.”

“Hey, nobody said you have to kill me,” Juno shrugged, though his smile fell when he had to duck to keep the stranger’s blade from his throat. 

“And yet you’ve been encouraging me to do so ever since we met,” the pirate sighed. 

“You really can’t take a joke, can you?” 

Juno felt his back hit the wall before he even registered that the ship’s floor plan had come to an end. He could hardly make out his opponent’s face from the shadow, but he could almost see those strangely soft lips pull apart to reveal pointed teeth. 

That dangerous grin bared one sword’s width from his neck. Juno was unsure which he was more afraid of. 

“I’ll ask you one more time, stowaway,” the man panted, breath hot and violent just above Juno’s pulsepoint. “What are you doing on my ship?”

“I worked for the governor,” Juno choked. “Piece of shit. Sank his best trading ship. Now he really, really wants me six feet under.”

The stranger swallowed, though Juno felt that his grip on the blade had yet to go slack. 

“Keep talking.”

“I had a chance to get off the island about a year ago, and I didn’t take it. I thought I could still do some good there. So when Governor O’Flaherty offered me a job, I took it. When I found out he was just another selfish asshole doing more harm than good, and I hadn’t actually helped anything, I sabotaged his work, lost an eye, and ran,” Juno said in a single breath when the blade eased away long enough for him to get it all out. 

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t want to die?”

“Fair point,” the stranger conceded. “I’m not done with you yet, though. Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Thank God,” Juno huffed. “I was getting bored.”

The blade pulled away, rehooking itself on the chain of gold around his neck. The clinking of the tiny ringlets against the sword was almost melodic against the backdrop of shifting water, mere feet away from their heads. 

“You having fun down there?” Juno snorted. He saw that pretty mouth melt into a sneer and assumed that was the wrong thing to ask. 

“Where did you get this necklace?” 

“Uh...I guess I’ve always had it,” Juno returned, words coming slow and unsure. It clearly wasn’t the answer the stranger wanted, however, for the cutlass returned to its cozy position by Juno’s throat. “Okay! Okay, geez, sorry!”

“If you lie to me again, stowaway, I’ll carve my initials into your neck,” the man hissed. 

“Not a lie.”

“That wasn’t funny,” the pirate pressed. “If it’s your necklace, then tell me, why does it bear Juno Steel’s name?”

Even a thousand miles or a million years apart, Juno would have recognized the way Peter Nureyev said his name. It was the kind of word he held in his mouth like a treasure, like a mother cradling her child or a protective hand shielding a lit candle from a cold and hungry wind. Even in passing, Nureyev brought those words to life like music and poetry. Even when he spat them like they burned when they crossed the threshold of his lips. 

Juno wished he could have spent the rest of his life in that moment, mere inches away from the man whose heart had crumbled to ash in his hand almost a year ago. He wished he could have met his eye and known that gaze had yet to truly hate him. Nureyev had every right, after all. 

When trapped in a room of explosives that never exploded, Juno promised him a perfect tomorrow he thought he would never get. When the sun started to rise and Juno had yet to be blown to bits, those promises began to shatter one by one within his head. So after a night he wished he could forget, if only so that the months afterwards might hurt less, he walked out. He walked home. 

It would likely be kinder that the two never saw each other again. Nureyev didn’t deserve another burden like that. 

However, Fate never saw it to be kind to Juno Steel. 

With Peter Nureyev’s teeth bared above him and his blade at his neck, Juno sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut in the hopes that this horrible dream, a new one, he supposed, might pass. It didn’t. 

“Answer me,” the man, the stranger, the shadow, the pirate, Peter Nureyev himself, growled. 

“Nureyev,” Juno breathed, unable to speak anything but the single thought devouring his mind alive. 

“You!” Nureyev spat, and lurched away from Juno like he might be infectious. “You—”

Peter trailed off, voice having gone soft as he looked down at Juno for the longest time their circumstances had allowed. Luckily for Nureyev, a beam of light from a crack in the deck above lit up Juno’s face. Unluckily for Juno, it hit him square in the eye and rendered him blind but to blobs of purple sunspots in his vision. 

“What happened to your eye?” Nureyev tried to demand, though Juno could tell his voice was going weak. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Juno snorted. 

“Try me.”

“Went after an ancient buried treasure. It went bad,” Juno summarized. 

“You’re right, I don’t believe that at all,” Nureyev said. On any other day, it might have been a joke, though it came out as cold and cruel as the stinging salt on the breeze. “I don’t know what I’d expect other than lies.”

“Hey, come on—” Juno started, though something in his gut twisted painfully, and the part of him that wanted to speak was silenced by the part of him that agreed with Nureyev. 

“We can fight about this later,” Nureyev conceded after a few moments of dead, pensive silence that made the feet between them seem like a million dark and empty miles. “I have work to attend to.”

Juno sighed and tried his best to make his peace with God. 

“Give me a moment to think of some last words.”

“Beg pardon?” 

“Aren’t you going to—” Juno broke off to mime a stabbing. “You know. Kill me or something?”

“I’m afraid not,” Nureyev sighed. “Unfortunately for me, the Captain wants you here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty light, folks! Hope you like parrots
> 
> Content warnings for mentions of death threats, death mention, violence mention,

The last time Nureyev had carried Juno anywhere, it had been bridal style and over the threshold of a hotel room with a creaky bed and an odd damp smell that refused to shake itself from the walls. Juno hadn’t cared. It had been so long since someone had touched him, let alone held him without a harmful intent. Just the feeling of the arm beneath his knee and a steadying hand upon his back made him feel more grounded than ever before. 

Needless to say, he much preferred that to Nureyev, or Ransom, as he’d been instructed to call him in front of the crew, dragging him up the stairs by the back of the neck like a disobedient kitten. 

“Here’s your detective,” he spat as he dragged Juno onto the deck. “He snuck on board.”

“Not what I meant when I asked for a hand up.” Juno groaned, biting off any further comments when Nureyev looked about ready to kick him. 

“Juno Steel,” an unseen woman began warmly. Anything in that voice with that tone would have sounded nice after the cold iron of Nureyev’s muttered insults and death threats all the way up the stairs, as much as Juno was just grateful to hear his voice at all. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.” 

Juno heard his knees hit the deck with a thunk, Nureyev’s fist still clenched in the back of his shirt and refusing to let his neck lay at a comfortable angle. Regardless, Juno knew he would have recognized the woman before him anywhere

Captain Buddy Aurinko, the menace of the southwestern sea. Juno lived his entire life on a port island, with Buddy’s face plastered on wanted posters on every corner and town bulletin. In the drawings, she looked haughty and dangerous. In person, however, she commanded an indescribable presence. It seemed the sea soothed and the howling wind quieted when she began to talk, for even the turbulent sea knew better than to cross her. 

She had hair the color of a blazing sunset, swept over one eye. The eye Juno could see was as sharp as the cutlass strapped to the hip not already bearing a flintlock. Her face wore a pleasant and casual smile, though something glinted in her eye and made Juno wonder if that smile was the last thing many an unlucky sailor had seen. 

“Ransom, darling, don’t break his neck,” she chuckled. “This is a stowaway I’ll make an excuse for.” 

Nureyev dropped his hand without warning, leaving Juno to slump over, then try to climb back to his feet on the ever-shifting deck. Finally upright, and no longer getting dragged around by a justifiably enraged swashbuckler, Juno glanced around at the crew. 

Nureyev hadn’t changed in a year. He still wore his hair the same way and no new scars wandered over his skin. His jaw sat tight with a silently smoldering rage, and Juno couldn’t help but think it was a blessing that their eyes had not met, for every time the gaze of those bright eyes seized him, he felt something in his chest shatter. 

Vespa Ilkay, who, to Juno’s knowledge, was supposed to be dead, stood at the Captain’s side with her arms crossed over her doublet. The posters hadn’t done her a shred of justice either, though Juno doubted any print could capture such wildfire in someone’s eyes. 

Just over her shoulder stood a tall man with a green parrot atop his head. Juno could have sworn the merrily tweeting ball of feathers looked familiar, but he cast the thought away. The last member of the crew left his mind blank with shock. 

“Rita?” 

“Mistah Steel?” Rita cried in return. 

The two stood frozen for a moment, eyes roving over one another if just to find some visible reason the other might be there. Then, they both mutually decided that they didn’t care, and met in the middle for a bone-crushing hug. 

“Rita, what are you doing here?” Juno choked out while Rita continued to threaten the solidity of his ribcage. 

“I told you, boss,” Rita shrugged, finally letting Juno out to wheeze and sputter. “I went on vacation.”

“You joined the crew of a pirate ship.”

“We all unwind differently, Mistah Steel,” Rita explained. “It’s just some basic self care.”

“I see you’re already familiar with Rita,” Buddy smiled. 

“Yeah, she was my secretary for twenty years,” Juno chuckled incredulously. 

“And best friend,” Rita added. 

“And best friend,” Juno confirmed. 

“And, if I’ve heard correctly from Ransom, you two—” Buddy paused, treating the next word like a delicate bloom. “Worked together in the past.”

“Yes, we commandeered a particularly elusive vessel, and—” Ransom was broken off when Vespa glared. 

“We’ve heard.”

“I’m sure Juno needs no reminding,” the big guy interjected. “He was present, after all.”

“As I was saying,” Buddy started again. “It’s good to know you’ll have company on the Carte Blanche. We won’t be making port for quite some time, and I doubt we will do so before we have the chance to steal the map.”

“What do you—you keep talking like you’re gonna hire me,” Juno pointed out. 

“We were intending to, but it seemed the lady I was hoping to hire when we docked at Port Hyperion was conspicuously missing,” Buddy mused. “Treat this as a job offer, darling. I require another member for the series of missions I have planned, and I must say, I quite admire your work.”

“Beg pardon?” Nureyev interjected. “I thought you said Juno wasn’t at the top of your list.”

“He wasn’t,” Buddy returned. 

“Then why—”

“The others fell through, darling. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me again.”

“Gee, thanks,” Juno snorted. 

Nureyev gritted his teeth, but went quiet anyway. 

“So, Juno Steel,” Buddy began once more. “What do you say?”

Juno sighed, wishing his eyes hadn’t flicked to Nureyev once more. 

“Not like I have anywhere else to go,” he shrugged. 

Buddy narrowed her eye. 

“I’m going to need a yes or no, Juno.”

“Yeah, sure,” Juno conceded. 

“Well, darling,” Buddy began, face blooming into a grin. “Welcome aboard the Carte Blanche. As for the crew you’ve yet to meet, this is Vespa, our doctor and quartermaster, Jet Sikuliaq, our pilot and carpenter, and I am your humble captain—”

“First mate,” Vespa snorted. 

“Just because we never officially voted—” Buddy began, a laugh lining her voice as her wife gave her hand a little squeeze. 

“The incomparable Buddy Aurinko,” Vespa finished. 

“And who’s the bird?” Juno asked.

“Ruby,” both Nureyev and Jet said at the same time, both with an odd and sudden ire in their voices. 

“And she’s green?”

“Yes,” Nureyev returned, eyes still trained on the bird atop Jet’s head. She chirped merrily. 

“Is that the same—”

“Yes.”

Ruby sang a little ditty, then bent forward to press her beak to Jet’s forehead and make kissing noises. Jet smiled and reached a finger up to scratch the top of her head, while she continued to squeak and chirp in delight. Nureyev balled his fist. Juno decided it was best not to press any further, especially with Nureyev so rightfully pissed at him already. 

“Well, Juno,” Buddy cut in before any more custody disputes over a parrot could break out. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Just one. I know you’re all—” he broke off to try and remember a single title any of his crewmates held, instead gesticulating vaguely until it seemed Buddy got the idea. “What does that make me?”

“Cabin boy,” Vespa snorted. 

“Hey, you wanna—”

“We’ll find a place for you, darling,” Buddy broke him off. “Ransom will show you to your quarters.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You did find him, after all. And from the way you two came up here, I would guess you attempted to stab him shortly after doing so,” Buddy returned coolly. “Am I correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then it’s only fair that he remains your problem.”

“Yes, Captain Aurinko,” Nureyev sighed. 

“What?” Juno said simultaneously. 

Buddy gave them both an infuriatingly knowing look, then crossed her arms, and turned one shoulder in preparation to walk away. 

“Finish showing him around the ship by dinner. I want the crew together for meals, especially with a new member aboard,” Buddy called over her shoulder, then turned back to the helm of the ship. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Juno sighed as Nureyev turned his gaze upon him. 

“Believe me, Juno, you make that very tempting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo!! Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment or I'll steal your parrot
> 
> find me on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter @withane22 !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a fun one y'all!! I had to write a wholesome sea shanty for this so do enjoy
> 
> Content warning for vague food mention, minor injury mention, alcohol mention (it's a version of the song Drunken Sailor, including a verse about respecting people who don't drink), minor argument, nausea mention

Just when Peter Nureyev thought he could leave Port Hyperion and that smoking hole in his chest behind, Juno Steel crashed back into his life and shattered his carefully constructed caricature of acceptance into a thousand pieces. So with his jaw set and those thousand shattered pieces sinking their teeth into him from the inside out, he gave Juno a bare-bones tour of the Carte Blanche. 

There was a watchtower. There were sails. The family ate at the same time every evening, and they all ate together. Afterwards, they would do their best to enjoy each other’s company while Rita played the accordion and sang. Juno would sleep in one room and keep his possessions there as well. 

Nureyev could pretend he still had a grip on himself when talking about something as mundane as the vessel on which he had spent the last few weeks. He could pretend Juno Steel’s eye wasn’t boring a bleeding hole into him every time their gazes met. He could almost pretend that he still had it in him to be angry after nearly a year apart. He could pretend that he’d never loved Juno Steel, if he really tried. 

Peter Nureyev had worn many masks throughout his life, most notably and recently, Peter Ransom. A mask of anger wasn’t difficult to summon, nor was the more businesslike mask he wore when guiding Juno from place to place. Masks meant safety, consistency, and the assurance that he would be seen in exactly the way he meant to be seen. 

However, when the pair returned to the cargo hull, alone in the candlelit darkness once more, Juno tore that assurance from him with a single word.

“Nureyev,” he started before Nureyev’s heart even had time to sink, thrashing wildly in his chest like a fish gasping for air that would not come. “If we’re going to work together—”

“We can talk about the elephant in the room another time,” Nureyev cut him off, silently cursing himself for the waver in his voice. 

“I just think it’ll be better for the rest of the crew if we’re able to put things aside—”

Juno’s face was beautiful in the low orange light of the candle that Nureyev found himself gripping with the strength of a vice. A new scar or two eased across his face, at least what of it Nureyev could see between the dark and the eyepatch he wore with all the grace of a crown. Peter couldn’t help but think of how easy it would be to fall in love with a face like that, to lay his hand on that cheek and kiss those new scars and pretend that the last year never happened. 

Instead, he told himself to be angry. Anger was easy. He deserved to be angry, after all. He might as well try to kill that soft and horrible thing that bloomed in his chest whenever he thought about the lady who once held his heart in his hand. 

“Put things aside?” Nureyev repeated. 

Juno winced. Nureyev tried and failed to smother the pang of guilt he felt for that. 

“I didn’t say that right,” Juno sighed. “I just hoped we might be able to—”

“Keep our history from interfering with the success of the crew?” Nureyev finished coldly. 

“Well, yeah.”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t,” Nureyev said, as evenly as he could manage. “I haven’t seen any issue so far.”

“Yeah, well my neck would beg to differ,” Juno shot back, his tentative guilt snapping. 

“If I’m remembering correctly, Juno, you snuck aboard the ship. Most people would be lucky to live through such a thing,” Nureyev returned. 

“Hell of a way to introduce me to the crew though. I’m sure I’ll look back and think of you every time I see those goddamn bruises on my knees,” Juno spat. 

“Oh, do spare me.”

“I get it. I don’t care if you never forgive me,” Juno started, the weight of that untruth welling in his eye. “Just treat me like a goddamn person, okay?”

“I—” Nureyev broke off, finding himself at an utter loss for words. 

“Look. If you need an apology, I’ve drafted a couple hundred, but—”

Nureyev shook his head. 

“I’m sorry about your knees,” he cut in. “And I apologize for nearly gutting you this morning. I’ll do my best not to injure you again.”

Some long-dormant creature in his chest stretched, blinking its eyes open and raising its head. It was a fluttering little thing, as weak as it was warm and soft and choking. It liked to cut off function to Nureyev’s brain and mouth and fix his eyes and thoughts on the lovely lady mere feet away, even if his eye was wide in shock and his face still contorted in rage. 

“Thanks,” Juno said as Nureyev tried and failed to pry his mind from the thrashing pulse of his heart. “Do you mind if I say something?”

“So long as you say it before I have to go tend to the sails, you can say anything you wish,” Nureyev returned. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry—”

“Anything but that.”

Juno didn’t have a response. He nodded, and from what Nureyev could see, his face had long since fallen into a mournful grimace, as if internally chastising himself for even hoping it might work. Even though there were only a few feet between the two of them, all Nureyev could see were two old and crumbling walls a million miles apart. His was patched and reinforced, while Juno was praying that his own might finally keel over. 

“Right,” Juno finally said. “I don’t wanna keep you if you’ve got work. Thanks for the tour.”

“My pleasure,” Nureyev replied, though he knew it came out hollow. 

Juno turned and left for the deck before Nureyev had the chance to think of another word to say. 

. . . 

Juno sat next to him at dinner. He knew it wasn’t meant to torment him, and that Juno was likely looking for the last open seat next to Rita, whom he hadn’t seen in several weeks. From the way his face lit up like still midnight waters reflecting the moon, Nureyev assumed he’d missed her dearly. 

He chided himself for being upset over such a thing as seating, and did his best to hide his pounding heart behind the mask of an entertainer. Nureyev forced tales of adventure and thefts and swashbuckling from his mouth the way he would have to force a stubborn apology or an expression of pain. It seemed the crew believed him, however. If anyone suspected the turmoil just below the surface, nobody showed any signs. 

Nureyev told a story about a wealthy governor he once stole an ancient treasure map from, embellishing every fight and detailing every step to his admittedly quite impressive plan. He supposed he just happened to forget that he had seduced the governor to do so. The crew didn’t exactly need to know it. He didn’t see any reason to include the detail. 

Halfway through another story, at Rita’s request, he caught Juno’s eye in the rosy light of the dying day. His gaze was impossibly soft, heavy with the same apology Nureyev had cut off hours before. Nureyev felt his throat going dry under it, and forced his eyes elsewhere so his words might not expire and begin to fester upon his tongue. 

Juno cut him off between stories to request a second serving of something of which they had plenty, though a chain of guilt still remained bound to his voice. Nureyev waved away Jet’s offer to help, even if Jet was far closer to the dish. Peter told himself this was because he felt sorry for attempting to stab Juno earlier. 

He did not hope their hands might brush. His heart did not skip a beat when their knees knocked together. He did not let out a near-inaudible sigh when Juno fixed him with a smile that flickered with all the quiet beauty of a candle on a cold night. 

“Thanks, Ransom,” Juno said, as if such a thing was easy to say. 

“My pleasure,” Nureyev replied, and wished he were lying. 

Dinner was soon cleared away while Rita pulled out an accordion for a series of songs she referred to as “wholesome and respectful sea shanties.” Vespa looked about ready to become ill. Juno glared at her for it, and the pair nearly broke into an argument to the opening stanzas of “Wholesome Drunken Sailor.”

Nureyev had ears for none of it, however. Even after a year, Juno’s jaw still clenched in the same way when he was picking a petulant fight, and his eye still shone with the same fire that made Peter want to kiss him so badly when they first met. His face was alike to the ocean around, beautiful both in pacificity and tumult. Also like the ocean around, it was hard for Nureyev to look at for long before feeling sick to his stomach. 

He instead tried to stare at the bellows of the accordion, creaking and breathing out a pleasant reel while Rita sang. 

“Respect their choice if they don’t drink,

Respect their choice if they don’t drink,

Respect their choice if they don’t drink,

Early in the morning!”

When Juno sat down for Rita’s rendition of “Drunken Sailor,” he sat between Nureyev and the edge of the ship. He had no reason to do so, to Peter’s knowledge, though he had yet to accidentally brush his leg against Nureyev’s and laugh as if it were an accident. 

Nureyev reminded himself he had no reason to be overthinking seating amongst a crew of sailors he was told to consider family. He tried to force his thoughts onto the song once more, and on the next verse, almost managed a laugh when he could tear his eyes away from his new crewmate. 

“Tuck them into bed and kiss their forehead,

Tuck them into bed and kiss their forehead,

Tuck them into bed and kiss their forehead,

Early in the morning!”

Nureyev couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do other than stare off and try to keep his posture straight (first rule of thieving) while the lady who had held his heart in his hand and dropped it was singing along and laughing at his side. There was no music Peter could hear but the way he half-shouted the chorus from his chest and tried not to snort at Rita’s rewritten verses. 

“Tell them that they’re loved and valid,

Tell them that they’re loved and valid,

Tell them that they’re loved and valid,

Early in the morning!”

Juno pressed a hand to his chest at the last verse and wheezed, though the grin on his face assured Nureyev he felt no true pain. He joined in for the last verse and chorus, which Rita left unchanged, and when the song came to a close, clapped heartily. Peter wondered if that hurt his hands, before realizing he likely didn’t care. Joy, more unbridled than he’d ever seen from Juno before, could temporarily numb almost any pain. 

It was an odd moment to realize he had never ceased to love Juno Steel, hand in hand with the realization that the lady at his side was not the one who left him in a hotel room a year prior. He couldn’t help a bitter smile at that. Of course he’d be unfortunate enough to fall in love with Juno Steel twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants rejected verses to Wholesome Drunken Sailor, hit me up on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter @withane22 !!
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or I'll play sea shanties on my ukulele menacingly in your direction!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i Love this one there are More Bird Hours
> 
> Content warnings for alcohol consumption (medicinal purposes, it's the Olden Times), injury, blood, bullet wound, general gun violence, some minor heights, a general/background battle scene

As little as Juno liked waking up to Peter Nureyev’s sword pressed into his neck, he liked waking up to cannon fire even less. 

It wasn’t so much the roar of the cannon and the shuddering of the hull that woke Juno. Rather, the splash of salt water lapping at his feet was enough to send him flying out of bed and up to the deck as if he’d been chased by a fire. 

When he scrambled onto the deck, his first sight was of Buddy at the ship’s helm, lightning in her eyes and a sea breeze thrashing her thick red hair around like wildfire. She looked like some creature dredged from the depths of the sea to punish man for setting foot beyond where he belonged. Juno said a silent thanks that he was not on the crew opposing her. 

Jet was nowhere to be seen, while Nureyev and Rita manned cannons and Vespa shot past the edge of the ship with an impressive looking rifle. 

It didn’t take a former detective to know they were under attack. 

The ship groaned with the agony of the cannon blast it had already suffered. Juno could only assume the same blast had been the cause of both the sound and the flood of water that had yanked him from his slumber. As hardy as the vessel seemed, Juno doubted it could take much more. He wondered if Jet was somewhere in the hull, frantically patching up damage. 

Before Juno could do much more than reach for his long since emptied pistol, Nureyev broke off his train of thought. 

“Oh, lovely,” Nureyev greeted him, words gritted in focus as he stuffed a cannon ball into the mouth of his cannon. “Captain Aurinko! Juno’s still alive.”

“Glad to hear it,” Buddy called. “Juno, I want you to start shooting until the enemy vessel stops.” 

“We’re getting shot at, and you didn’t think to wake me?” Juno sputtered as Rita stepped away from the cannon to press a pistol into his hand and began to shoo him up to the crow’s nest.

“We were a little busy, Mistah Steel” she shrugged. 

“Doing what?”

“Getting shot at.”

Juno groaned, though any witty retort he was building up crashed when a bullet whizzed past his head and sank its teeth into the mast behind. 

He whirled around to face the enemy ship, which stood against the horizon close and large enough that its meticulously cleaned sails threatened to block out the early morning sun. The vessel was painted in dark blues and golds that Juno would’ve recognized anywhere, but the bold, gilded letters on the hull’s side confirmed it. 

“East India Trading Company,” he read aloud. 

A few weeks ago, he might have been able to hit a moving target on the deck, but with one eye missing and the sun in the other, aiming Rita’s pistol felt more like shooting at a mountain and trying to hit the highest peak. It didn’t help that each shot from the cannon made the deck shudder, and he doubted the ship could last much longer in a fight. When he’d sprinted from his quarters, the hull was already taking on enough water to more than flood the cargo. 

The height of the mast made his stomach churn. It was like looking into a whirlpool or seeing a dark, too-large shape lurking just beyond sight in the open sea. He hadn’t realized he was gripping the edge of the crow’s nest with white knuckles until one of them cracked, sending pain through his hand and once more, grounding him in reality. 

Juno took a deep breath. He tried his best to line up a bullet he knew wouldn’t fly true in a million years, and fired at the enemy ship’s sniper. 

A miss. 

“Hey, don’t you think it was a bit of an oversight to put the lady with one eye on sharpshooter duty?” Juno called down at the crew. 

“Shut up and shoot, Steel!” Vespa cried from down below. “We all have our hands full.”

Juno groaned, but fired again, pausing only to reload between every few shots. From his vantage point, it seemed the crew of the enemy vessel was milling about like a swarm of biting ants, though the single shot had sent them scattering, slowing their cannonfire for just a moment. Juno’s heart leapt, and he fired again. 

The bullet missed once more, but it didn’t seem to matter, for a cannon aimed in the direction of the already weak hull was knocked askew when the sailors made to dodge away from Juno’s shot. He kept firing, missing all but once, and he was pretty sure the man might have been injured at Vespa’s hand. Nonetheless, it seemed to be working, until another bullet whizzed past his head and into the mast. 

“Shit,” Juno spat. “Vespa! Can you see who’s firing my way?”

“Everyone’s firing, Steel! Use your goddamn eye,” she shot back, then shot back. 

Juno groaned, but turned his gaze back to the shadowy behemoth anyway. Vespa was right. Anyone who didn’t have a rope or a cannonball in their hands was holding a gun, making it difficult to see who exactly to shoot. 

He might not have been able to make out who had just missed shooting him a third time, but he could see one thing clear as day. A blinding spark of light fizzled off the barrel of a distant gunman’s weapon. Juno could see where his sights were set as if it were a directional line drawn on a map. 

The sailor was aiming directly for Nureyev. 

Juno fired, and missed. He fired again. He missed again. He cursed himself for the stupid series of events that cost him his eye, even if they hadn’t been his fault in the first place. He cursed his luck. He cursed himself for ever letting himself fall in love with Peter Nureyev in the first place. Another miss. And another. 

“Juno—” someone was calling, though his head felt as if it were underwater. 

He wasn’t aware anyone was doing much more than approaching the mast until Peter’s hand seized around his ankle, dragging him halfway down the ladder in the process. Juno wasn’t too proud to let out a yelp as his stomach dropped and the deck seemed to inch further and further away with every passing second. 

“Are you alright?” Nureyev panted. 

“Define alright,” Juno mumbled into his shoulder, forcing himself to remember that Nureyev was just holding him up so he might make it down the ladder safely. 

“Did you get shot?” Nureyev clarified a little bluntly. 

“Not that I’m seeing.”

“Good,” Nureyev returned. “Someone was aiming for you, and it didn’t look like they were going to miss.”

Nureyev parted from him like every inch away from Juno caused him physical pain, his touch still lingering upon Juno’s arm like his hand was stuck there. For a moment, even with the roar of cannons and gunfire and a thin haze of smoke stretching all around, Juno felt the world might have been condensed to just the two of them and the millions of miles between their newly parted hands. 

Those million miles got a few feet bigger when something whizzed past Juno’s ear while Nureyev crumpled onto a pile of cannonballs with a barely restrained groan. 

Juno found himself rendered frozen, mouth agape and torn between which name to cry in shock. He went with a long trail of expletives instead. 

He was pretty sure his knees ached like hell when they hit the floor at Nureyev’s side, but the thrashing of his heart against his sternum sent a pounding through his ears like the sound of drums just before an execution, and he found he didn’t particularly care. 

“I’m fine, Juno,” Nureyev grimaced. 

“What hit you?”

“Just a shockwave, I think,” Nureyev continued. “Really, Juno, you must get back to—”

“You had to be hit by something,” Juno insisted, eyes running over him in search of any blood. He silently cursed Nureyev for wearing so much black and burgundy. 

“Be a dear and help me up,” Nureyev said, though the tone of his words was utterly shattered when he said them through gritted teeth. 

“If you’re hurt, you don’t have to just muddle through—”

“I’m going to,” Nureyev interrupted. 

“What the hell do you have to prove?”

“I’m not weak, Juno. I can survive being thrown around a bit. I doubt, however, that our vessel will fare much better if I don’t soon return to my position,” Nureyev spat. “Now help me off these damned cannonballs before one of them breaks my spine.”

Juno’s heart leapt when Nureyev took him by his extended hand and attempted to stand, though his knees gave out halfway up. Juno lunged forward to catch him just in time. When Peter landed with his arms wrapped around Juno’s waist and his head and neck crumpled into his shoulder, Juno knew for certain that something was horribly wrong. Since their rather unfortunate reunion, it seemed Nureyev would die before allowing himself to be touched, let alone held by him. 

When Juno righted him on his feet once more, Nureyev remained bent double, a hand curled around his abdomen and the other clinging to the nearest mast for balance. 

In the distance, Juno thought he heard Buddy shout something about the enemy ship turning away. All he heard was a sound like the buzzing of lightly cresting waves drowning out all other thoughts as he looked at Peter Nureyev’s blood on his hand. 

“Nureyev—” Juno began, voice hushed so the word might only be shared between the two of them. He tried to look up, but found that Peter’s contorting face was even harder to look upon than the blood starting to dry in the crevasses between his fingers. 

“Juno,” Nureyev interrupted, voice so taut it threatened to snap like an overstretched bowstring. “I think it would be in your best interest to get the attention of the ship’s doctor right about now.”

Juno didn’t catch him the second time he went down, but he arrived at Nureyev’s side in time to guide him down to the deck without any further injury. He would have appreciated the tenderness of one hand on Peter’s back and the other on his uninjured side if he had it in him to appreciate anything at the moment. Nureyev had blanched to a color like jaundiced seafoam, teeth tearing into his bottom lip and fists white-knuckled. 

“Hey, hey,” Juno started, as soft as he could manage with his trembling voice. “Hang on for me, okay?”

“Wonderful, Juno. I do adore your bedside mannerisms, but I asked for a doctor,” Nureyev choked back. 

“Right. Vespa!” Juno called over his shoulder. 

“What now, Steel?” Vespa spat, face falling when she looked over at where Nureyev was propped against the mast. “Shit. Outta my way!”

Vespa came tearing over, emergency medical supplies in tow. She nearly bowled over Jet on the way, startling Ruby enough that she fluttered away and landed atop a nearby rope. 

Juno obliged with Vespa’s order, though he lingered close enough that, if he was still managing to be hopeful at a time like this, Nureyev might reach out to him if he wanted. If he was comfortable with something like that. 

“Drink this,” Vespa commanded, pressing a bottle into Nureyev’s hand. 

“Is this liquor?” 

“Look, pal, this isn’t the goddamn Vatican over here. You work with what you get,” she snapped. 

“Bottoms up,” Juno grimaced in sympathy. Nureyev choked. 

“Good Lord, this is potent,” he sputtered. 

“That’s the idea. Now keep drinking, unless you wanna feel this,” Vespa continued, her needle glinting in the sweltering sun. 

Nureyev did end up taking Juno’s hand, if only for something to squeeze when his dignity and the urge to cry out seemed at odds. Juno didn’t have the physical strength to squeeze back against his choking grasp, but managed an awkward pat at his wrist with the other hand. 

“Very helpful, Juno. I feel so—” Nureyev broke off for a gasp when Vespa did something that resulted in enough blood to fuel Juno’s nightmares for the next month. “Relieved. Comforted. You’re making me feel so much better by slapping my wrist.”

“Shut up,” Juno choked in return. “It’ll kick in soon.”

“Maybe I like having a running monologue. Have you considered that, my dear?” Nureyev pressed forward, teeth gritted and eyes. 

“You called me—”

Peter winced. Juno couldn’t tell if it was from the injury or what had just tumbled from his lips like a plate from a cabinet. 

“I know what I called you,” Nureyev cut him off. “And it’s terribly embarrassing. You might do well to forget it ever happened, if you’re not willing to return my affections.”

Juno choked. 

“If you like your liver the way it looks, I’d shut the hell up,” Vespa growled. 

“Hey, we’re having a moment,” Juno protested.

“Have a moment when Ransom’s not dying.”

“Am I—?”

“Not yet, but if I have to listen to any more of this shit, I’ll kill you myself,” Vespa cut off. 

“Juno, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to have this conversation when I’m not losing blood,” Nureyev tried to sigh, though it came out a groan instead. His head thudded against the mast and he squeezed Juno’s hand with all the strength his wrist could still muster. 

“Shit,” Juno gasped. “I need both my hands operational.” 

“I’ve been shot, Juno,” Nureyev returned with a half-hysterical laugh. Juno almost forgot how nice his name sounded from Peter’s lips when it wasn’t saturated in venom. 

“Hope you’re into ladies with hooks for hands, then,” Juno tried to joke, though his voice came out a little high and wiry.

Nureyev rolled his eyes, but dropped the hand anyway. In lieu of the physical distraction, he turned his head towards Juno and smiled, his face equal parts woozy and genuine. It faltered after a moment of staring off at Juno. 

“Keep him still,” Vespa mouthed from behind. 

“What’s the look for? I didn’t think I was that ugly,” Juno joked. 

“You’re crying,” Nureyev noticed. “Why are you crying?” 

“Because I’m worried about you, stupid,” Juno choked out, swallowing over and over again to try and quell eyes that rebelliously watered anyway. 

Here Nureyev was, sprawled out on the deck with his chest heaving from shaky breaths and blood smeared over any of his torso Juno could bear to look at, and he was worried about whether or not Juno might be tearing up. Juno knew it had to be the liquor or whatever the hell else was in that bottle loosening his tongue, but between the strangled pet names and that woozy, loving gaze, his heart didn’t seem to beat in his chest so much as it throbbed. 

“No need for that kind of tone, my love,” Nureyev murmured, words starting to slur together. 

“Did you mean to say that last one?” 

“It’s hard to pretend I hate you,” Nureyev sighed. “If I don’t get to see you again, I want you to know—“

“Please, not now,” Juno swallowed. 

“I tried to hate you—“

“Just shut up,” Juno protested. “Tell me this when you get better.” 

“If.”

“When,” Juno insisted. “It’s gotta be when.” 

Nureyev wasn’t awake long enough to respond, head and shoulders slumping down onto Juno’s chest. His limp hand still rested against Juno’s own, and even though it shook and ached with the memory of his grasp, Juno let their fingers twine together. 

Ruby landed atop Nureyev’s head, tilting her own to the side as she walked across his hair. 

“Ruby—“ Juno started. “Ruby, he’s not awake.”

Ruby chirped anyway, and pressed her beak to his forehead with a little kissy noise. 

“You’re not gonna wake him up.” 

The bird repeated the action, though the tap of her beak was more like a peck. When Nureyev refused to stir, she fluttered back to Jet’s shoulder with a series of sympathetic chirps. 

“Vespa,” Juno started after a moment in which the creaking of the hardly patched hull was barely louder than Nureyev, slumped over and snoring into his shoulder. “If he wakes up and doesn’t remember any of this, don’t bring it up.” 

“I’m trying to forget it as we speak,” she grimaced. “It’s not working.” 

Juno sighed, wishing Nureyev might say those warm words again and mean them under kinder circumstances. He couldn’t help but wonder if Nureyev had tried to make amends the same way Juno had tried to make promises on the other side of that door almost a year ago. Juno hadn’t ever meant to keep the promises because he never expected to survive to see the future. Perhaps Nureyev didn’t think he’d live long enough to ever call Juno his darling again. 

Juno stopped himself when he realized he’d been playing with Nureyev’s hair. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” 

“What kind of doctor do I look like to you?” Vespa growled as she worked. “Of course he’s gonna be okay.” 

“Good,” Juno sighed. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“You’re my operation table right now,” Vespa huffed. “I couldn’t move you if I wanted to. Apparently the closet cuddlebug over here wants to make my life a little more miserable.” 

Juno wanted to protest, but with fatigue a tangible weight atop his shoulders, hearing someone say the word ‘cuddlebug’ with such ire in their voice was enough to punch a desperate laugh out of him. 

“Steel,” Vespa interrupted. 

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise me something. I don’t ask much, but for my own sake,” she began, looking up from her work to meet his gaze with a glare. “Talk to him, okay?” 

“I will,” Juno started, sounding a bit unsure. “Never took you as the type to give out relationship advice.” 

“I’m not, but you two are gonna kill me if you spend any longer gazing at each other like you hung the goddamn sun, moon, and stars,” Vespa faux gagged. 

“I don’t—wait, does he?” 

Vespa groaned. 

“Shut up and be my table, Steel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want "shut up and be my table" like. embroidered on a throw pillow or something. even better: on a table
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or I'll eat celery in your general direction
> 
> find me on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter at @withane22 !!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo!! im gonna miss this one folks this was a lot of fun to write
> 
> Content warning for injury

Nureyev woke to muddled sounds before his eyes even had the chance to open. He registered the rocking of the ship and the distant, ever-present splashing of waves against the hull. The groaning of the damaged wood was replaced by a breathing creak, while nearby, the floorboards strained under a continual step. 

“You’re gonna kill your legs if you keep pacing, Mistah Steel,” Rita said from somewhere near. Nureyev heard an all too familiar sigh. 

“I know, I just—”

The footfalls stopped, and Peter heard a rustling of fabric that might have been a hug. 

“It’s okay to be worried,” Rita returned, voice muffled in Juno’s coat. “Just don’t beat up my best friend over it.”

“Thanks, Rita,” Juno murmured.

Ruby chirped from somewhere above, her wings fluttering as she landed somewhere unseen. 

“Huh. I think she’s starting to warm up to you, Mistah Steel,” Rita chuckled. Nureyev heard the hug break. 

“Yeah,” Juno choked out. Peter hoped he only sounded like he’d been crying. “I think she just misses Ransom’s attention.”

“But it’s only been a day!”

“I don’t think she cares,” Juno attempted to laugh. 

Ruby departed from her former spot and fluttered over in Nureyev’s direction, deciding his nose seemed to be a perfect perch. Even with his eyes opening blearily and every limb feeling too heavy to lift, Nureyev had it in him to attempt to protest by raising his head. 

“Ruby, darling—” he started, broken off when Ruby tapped her beak between his eyes and made a kissy noise. “Juno, I think I’m going to have to replace you.”

“I’ll let you two talk,” Rita whispered, closing the door behind her on the way out. 

Juno waited for her footsteps to grow distant before turning back to Nureyev, laid out on what had to be some kind of medical cot.

“How are you feeling?” he started after clearing his throat, though he still sounded hoarse. “Hell of a shot you took. Had me really worried there for a moment.”

“Alive,” Nureyev chuckled. “It’s better than nothing, my dear detective.”

Ruby strutted away to stand on his forehead for long enough that he could glance around the room, and most importantly, at Juno. Even with bags under his eyes and his hands fiddling restlessly with his shirt, he was as beautiful as ever. There was something about the familiarity of him that made the sight of Juno, slouching in a chair at Nureyev’s bedside, like a siren’s song. The line of his jaw and the shape of his face were perfect in that Nureyev would know them by touch alone, even after such a short while together. He’d spent far too long reliving the memory of them to forget such a sight that easily. 

He couldn’t explain why the sight before him was so beautiful in any kind of artistic sense, but he supposed he didn’t need to. The lady of his affections was lovely because he was Juno Steel, and that was enough. 

“Not a detective anymore,” Juno corrected, knocking Nureyev back to his senses. 

“I’m running out of non-romantic nicknames, I’m afraid. Perhaps you would like some of those back,” Nureyev offered before he could stop himself. 

“You—” Juno’s grin was like a crack of lightning in that it burned through the room for hardly a second before it fizzled out, though the soft, purple echoes of the look still blazed in Peter’s eyes. “Are you still on—”

“I’m afraid any and all pain medication has faded at this point,” Nureyev grimaced. He tried to prop an elbow under himself to sit up, but decided it was best to move as little as possible with Ruby still strutting around on his face. 

“If you need me to get some, I can get Vespa,” Juno offered. 

“My only request is that you help me with my current predicament,” Nureyev smiled, though found the expression was difficult to maintain with Ruby slamming her head into his face and making kissing noises so loud he had to strain to talk over them. “I love you too, dear, it’s just hard to talk to my second favorite crewmate while you’re on my face.”

“What?”

“Oh, you’re a sweet little thing,” Nureyev chuckled, though it became muffled when Ruby decided that his moving mouth looked like a fine place to stand. “Don’t get jealous. You’re a sweet little too, Juno.”

“I’m not that short,” Juno snorted. 

“I have to sit down to hold eye contact with you,” Peter joked. He tried to speak again, but Ruby had decided trying to squawk her own name out was far more important than Nureyev being heard. 

“Do you need me to get her off of you?”

“Unfortunately,” Nureyev sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll break her poor heart to do so, however.”

Juno reached in his pocket for what looked to be a piece of hardtack. Ruby fluttered away onto his shoulder without question while Peter feigned a look of utter betrayal. 

“Heartbroken, huh?” Juno snorted. 

“Oh, do be quiet,” Nureyev glared as Ruby munched on the second piece of food she managed to mooch off of Juno just by headbutting him and making chirping noises. “And don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“I was talking to the bird,” Peter huffed. 

Juno chuckled, though his voice was hoarse from tears he was adamantly pretending he had not just shed. For that brief moment, Nureyev thought he saw a patch of heaven in the sound of Juno Steel’s laughter. 

When thinking about the tangled mass of feelings tied to the individual in the middle of the room became too difficult for one so recently awakened, Nureyev decided to file the thoughts away for future consideration and try to sit up instead. Unfortunately, the reason he had been lying down in the first place shot through him in a single wave, and he let out an involuntary gasp. 

Juno had spent so long accidentally torturing him with his sweet little gestures and mannerisms and even the concern over Nureyev’s injury. He continued to do so when he rushed to Peter’s side to lay a hand on his back, carefully guiding him back to the bed. 

“Careful,” he breathed. “It’s only been a day. Go easy on your stitches.”

“A day?” Nureyev choked. 

“A very long day,” Juno confirmed with a grimace as he saw that Nureyev returned his head safely to his pillow. 

“Take this as no insult, but it seems you haven’t had a particularly pleasant day,” Nureyev noticed, anything clever or eloquent fleeing his mind with Juno’s face mere inches from his own. For once, those inches only felt like inches, rather than a thousand miles. 

“Like I said. Long day,” Juno sighed. “I know Vespa said you’d be fine, but I was just—”

“Worried?” Nureyev finished, a smile curling the edge of his lips. 

“Shut up,” Juno huffed. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Peter returned. “I just think it’s sweet of you. Completely useless, but—”

“Hey,” Juno interjected. “That means a lot from the guy who half-mummified me over a couple of scrapes.”

“You were stabbed, Juno.”

“Whatever.”

Nureyev chuckled, clutching his stitches when they began to throb in protest. 

“You did this to me, you brute,” he tried and failed to say in a way that sounded accusatory.

“Sure,” Juno snorted. “Sure I did.”

Even though his tone carried a joke with it, he leaned over to ensure no bandages had become bloody since he last insisted on changing them. Nureyev felt his heart leap into his throat at the gesture, and ensured to catch Juno by the wrist when he returned back to his chair. 

“Nureyev—” Juno started, glancing down at their loosely connected hands with something between fear and barely composed excitement burning just behind his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry I was short with you the other day,” Nureyev sighed. “It was unfair of me.”

“I think I deserved that,” Juno winced. 

“If we’re remembering the same event, I’m going to have to disagree,” Peter pressed forward. “Many things can change in a year. I shouldn’t have assumed you to be stagnant. I know you said you wanted to say your piece then, and now, I think I’m ready to hear it.”

Juno took a deep, shaky breath, then let it out. 

“I’m sorry, I can kick you out for an hour or so if you need time to prepare,” Nureyev started, but Juno laughed and cut him off. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a year, that’s all. I mean, for a while it was just some kind of impossible dream, you know? I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again. And then I did, and you got shot, and God, there was a moment there where I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”

“If I’m being honest, I think I was trying to do the same,” Nureyev returned, squeezing his hand. 

“Oh God, you remember that?” Juno sputtered. Peter felt his face grow hot. 

“Yes, Juno. I remember it. I’m horribly embarrassed already, though I will say, I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean. I just wasn’t sure if I’d ever get the chance to see it come to fruition,” Nureyev returned. “I won’t interrupt you again. Please, do proceed.”

Juno sighed, and Nureyev gave his hand a supportive squeeze. 

Peter heard his apology, though the words meant less than the slight tremble in his voice or the way his fingers interlocked with Nureyev’s and squeezed when he was about to say something particularly raw and painful. Nureyev doubted he even knew he was doing it as his eye flicked from a spot upon a ceiling beam and when he had it in him to look, Peter’s face. He made a point of trying to look supportive when Juno managed to meet his eye. 

When Juno finally finished speaking with a shuddering sigh, his shoulders sagged as if he were Atlas, finally relieved of his duty. 

“Thank you,” Nureyev smiled. Juno broke into an unsteady grin that made his heart skip a beat. 

“So, uh,” Juno started, clearing his throat. 

“I suppose the question is where we go from here, isn’t it?” Nureyev supplied. 

“Yeah. I mean—I’m pretty sure you can tell how I feel,” he managed. 

“And I’m sure you remember the fool of myself I made the other day,” Peter returned. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Juno snorted. 

“I believe I called you ‘my love’ in front of Vespa. Juno, you do understand that I’m never going to live this down, correct?” 

“If I know her, she’s probably going to try and forget, but never forgive,” Juno joked. 

When a silence followed, Nureyev felt he might shatter if he didn’t break it. 

“So, are you saying you’d like to try again?” Nureyev offered. He didn’t remember when his voice became that small. 

“I—” Juno choked. “Yeah.”

“I won’t start out with ‘my love’ or anything, if that’s too much,” Nureyev assured him. 

“I’ll hold out judgement on that one,” Juno chuckled. 

“May I still hold your hand?” Nureyev asked.

“You haven’t even let go of it yet.”

“It felt like the right thing to ask,” Nureyev couldn’t help but smile. 

“Go for it,” Juno laughed. “Just go easy on me. It’s still sore.”

“Oh do be quiet,” Nureyev huffed as he pressed a kiss to Juno’s knuckles. Juno beamed like he had been written a sonnet in that tiny moment. 

Peter didn’t exactly mind starting slow. If he had to start with pet names where he might usually wax poetic, or kisses to hands when he would rather press them to lips, he would. However, he couldn’t help but adore the way those little gestures made his heart leap. Slowness implied that the relationship might, perhaps, last a great length of time. 

He wouldn’t exactly mind spending a great length of time with Juno Steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you all so much for joining me on this voyage!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or I'll make ye walk the plank
> 
> Find me on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter @withane22 !!

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo!! I'm so excited to post the rest of this fic :D
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or I'll break into your house and play sea shanties at four in the morning. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or just come talk to me! for those interested, my twitter is @withane22 !!


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